


communication issue(s)

by Snufflebunny



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, POV Alternating, Porn with some plot, Romance, Sexting, Shameless Smut, residency days, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29122095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snufflebunny/pseuds/Snufflebunny
Summary: April seems to know everyone's dirty laundry and then Jackson finds out hers.
Relationships: Jackson Avery/April Kepner
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	communication issue(s)

**Author's Note:**

> slightly au as in Alex and April never kissed and Jackson and Lexie aren't together and April is still a virgin!

April Kepner was an excellent eavesdropper. As far as she could remember, it had been a thoughtless activity. Perhaps she would walk by her sisters’ room and hear her on the phone with her “secret” boyfriend. Or walking by an on-call room and hearing an _attending_ and a _nurse_ in the throes of passion. It’s not that she explicitly meant to overhear… it’s just that, it was almost impossible not to listen.

For all of April’s life, she kept to herself and placed herself on a hypothetical line. There were those who were good and did no wrong, and then there were those who did wrong and pretended to be good. April always knew the difference. She had developed incredibly early on an ability to read people. Whether it was from her sheltered existence on a farm in Ohio or from letting herself be seen and not heard in medical school. She knew when to speak and when to be silent and she stayed mostly silent.

Overall, this way of life had worked for her. She was a good girl. She made her parents proud, sisters infuriated, peers underestimated, and colleagues baffled.

It takes an extraordinary amount of will to study medicine. She kept her toes in line.

Except when she was eavesdropping.

When Mercy West was amalgamated into Seattle Grace, she found out very quickly that it was almost impossible NOT to hear other people’s conversations. April had lived a sheltered life and hospital gossip was like reading harlequin romance novels… intriguing, dirty, time consuming, and almost impossible to resist. April would never admit that this gossip she loved she also lived vicariously through. Nurse Olivia was great at doing a central line, _(if you could find her on the floor and not in an on-call room with a doctor)_ , Doctor Samson would only perform surgery with a specific scrub cap ( _purple with white polka dots_ ) and the scrub nurse Jennifer ( _who he was cheating on his wife with_ ), and the night shift secretary Sarah loved when you respected her space ( _she was busy doing sudoku and sexting one of the newest residents_ ).

Now, April was not big on divulging other people’s secrets, especially her co-workers. She also believed in Jesus, and He definitely wouldn’t approve of this talent of her hers, let alone want her to judge. So, she kept to herself, did her rounds, saved patients lives, and continued on her way.

However, just because she believed in Jesus and didn’t judge others on their secrets (that she swears she unwillingly hears!) doesn’t mean that she can’t use it to her advantage. Her ability to blend in and be underestimated has allowed her to scrub in on some major surgeries. She knows the preferences of every single attending on the clock. She knows their schedule because she is _Chief Resident_ , thank you very much, and she would never squander any opportunity given to her.

For awhile April kept under the radar. For a long time, she was considered a “Mousy-know-it-all”, “Jesus-Freak-Goody-Two-Shoes,” and her recent favourite, “Derek-Sheppard-Idolizing-Hillbilly”, but she never let it get to her. She walked through the hospital hallways of Seattle Grace undeterred because she had valuable information about all of them.

Although for most of her life she was friendless and alone, after the shooting she sought solace in Jackson Avery, and he sought solace in her. Not in a gross, repulsive, self-gratifying way, but in a way that allowed their friendship and inevitable closeness to flourish. He was someone completely unattainable to her in so many ways. One: he was an Avery (self-explanatory), two: he was a man (she was quite certain that she was attracted to men even though they weren’t attracted to her), three: he was a _man_. He walked with a certain air; he was confident, dominant, and self-assured in everything he did (mostly).

She allowed their friendship to blossom into something of a dependable nature. She would smile at him in the hallway if they passed by each other, he would buy her a coffee for her night shift if he was headed home, and sometimes she would reluctantly do his laundry if he had been working for days on end. They got each other. Their friendship formed easily because they knew each other’s quirks and habits. Instead of finding her motor mouth insufferable, he had called her “charming” which earned him a slap on the wrist and a blush that crept all the way down to her toes.

April would never eavesdrop, spy, on Jackson because they were friends and she’s never had a real guy friend before. Sure, she was interested in his history (particularly his family history, hence the friendship request to Catherine Avery on Facebook) but she was eager for him to open up to her without prompting. They did live together, albeit with roommates, but she would never invade his privacy on purpose. But sometimes old habits die hard.

It was a Thursday evening at 1:00 a.m. and April was in the ER suturing a drunken patron of Joe’s wrist. The evening had been unnaturally quiet. Thursday always seemed to bring out the blue-collar workers who thought of Thursday as the pre-drinking event to Friday night drinking. However, the beds were empty, and the nurses were bored and tired. April fought to keep her eyes open as she finished up the procedure.

“You okay little lady, you look like hell!” the man laughed. He was doing surprisingly well receiving stitches considering the length of his wound. It probably had something to do with his inebriation…

April closed her eyes and sighed. Sometimes working as a resident was tiresome. She nodded at the middle-aged man, signaling that she was finished, and leaned back in her chair. After taking off her gloves and pulling back the curtain of where her patient resided, she dug into her pocket to find out the time on her phone.

**3 UNREAD TEXT MESSAGES**

Odd, she never received text messages this late at night. Upon closer inspection she realized they were all from Jackson. Her brain immediately went into overdrive. Did he need her to pick something up on the way home? She gave her phone number to Alex that was for strictly “roommate business” and ever since he would constantly send her a long grocery list of things he was “too tired” to buy on the way home. Was he coming down with the flu? This week Jackson had been on Arizona Robbins service and he had to deal with a parent’s niece who had an extreme case of the sniffles while waiting for hours in the patients lounge.

Did he just want to update her on his night?

She fumbled with her phone, on edge, this was unusual behaviour for him. She opened the messages and read through the first one: “Hey April, you’re missing a great movie. Just kidding, Alex has got another girl over and they’re LITERALLY making out right beside me.”

April rolled her eyes and then laughed to herself. Thursdays were usually the nights where they occupied the living room so that Alex would take his conquests upstairs to his room. April guessed the conquest on his couch right now was Rachel Wilson, from Dermatology. She was over a few times and loved to instill the importance of drinking fluids at thirty-minute intervals throughout the day to ensure youth and fertility (while always directing a keen eye toward April). She had overheard a few times in Alex’s room how she was uncomfortable with Alex living with another woman and Alex informed her quickly that April wasn’t a “woman” but a “complete nerdy _virgin_.”

He wasn’t wrong but it always hurt her feelings when she heard him say it. She never intended for her… _ahem_ … chastity to be a topic of conversation among her co-workers.

She scrolled to the next message and her eyes widened. “Babe, you have no idea how badly I want to be inside you right now.”

April blushed furiously and looked around the room. _This is a mistake, this is a mistake, this is a mistake, this is a mistake, this is a-_

April shook her head and drew in a breath. Obviously, this text was not meant for her… right? April was no stranger to dirty talk, she overheard it all the time in the hallways, outside on-call rooms, outside Alex’s bedroom… she shook her head again to get rid of that perturbing thought. Although she was no stranger to this sort of _linguistic engagement,_ she would never participate! Whatever happened to sonnets and poetry and proclaiming your undying love to your beloved?

For all her eavesdropping and overhearing, it would have never prepared her for this moment. Sure, she noticed when Jackson was talking to another girl…

(at Joe’s in a secluded corner last Wednesday night he had a hand on her hip, gazing into her eyes with a look she couldn’t recognize. It was definitely a look that commanded whoever he was giving it to their full, undivided attention. April watched as he used his other hand to draw small circles on the girl’s shoulder and teasingly pulling down the strap of her tank top. Gosh did no one have any common decency these days? She would expect this unseemly behaviour from Alex but—oh my god he was grabbing her by the wrist and leading her into the bathroom… of all places).

Realizing where she was, April quickly wrote some notes in her patients charts and went to drop it off at the nurse’s station while trying to hide her face behind her hair. This was no easy feat as she began to stumble and fall onto the counter, knocking over various papers and pens onto the floor.

“Kepner!” Owen Hunt barked, eyes wide.

“Sorry, sorry, I wasn’t—my brain was inside—er, no elsewhere! Yes, elsewhere. My brain was elsewhere! I’m just going to leave this chart here and, I need to—” she stopped abruptly as she heard Owen sigh loudly. She picked up her mess and headed straight for an empty on-call room.

She slumped onto a rumpled bed and stared at her phone.

**1 UNREAD MESSAGE**

Could she do this? Maybe she could just throw out her phone and get a new one. She didn’t have to read the next message, she could pretend that she lost it, fell out of her pocket while receiving a trauma and no one would be any the wiser. But… she was curious, and that was her fatal flaw. This was Jackson. Jackson Avery, best friend and confidante, expert of telling her bad jokes and making an excellent hot cocoa. _And apparently thirsty for a booty call._ She thought again, could she do this?

Straightening, she opened the message which read: “I can’t stop thinking about how wet you get before I even touch you. I want that pretty mouth all over my cock, god you know how to take it so deep. You’re such a good girl for me. I want to make you beg for it, I want to hear you crying and cumming all over my—”

Suddenly the on-call room door burst open with a pair of interns smothering each other with their bodies. April shot up from her position on the bed, embarrassed at how engrossed she was in her reading, and cleared her throat waiting to be noticed. The interns both stared at her, wide-eyed, and completely in shock.

“Can’t you see this room is occupied? Get out!” April shouted, afraid she was caught in the act itself and slightly angry at being interrupted. They proceeded to detangle themselves from each other and exit the room with their heads down.

She fell back on the bed and sighed heavily. What was happening right now? How did this happen? She had never even seen a sext before let alone discuss elements of her sex life out loud (if she had one, she knows she wouldn’t even consider dirty flirting). But here it was, still displayed brightly on her screen, as if boldly asking her to continue reading. _I almost finished reading it… it’s not like I shouldn’t finish what I started._ She felt her skin become overheated, butterflies fluttering in her stomach, zaps of electricity lighting up her nerves heading slightly south…

April shook her head for the umpteenth time that night. What was her traitorous mind thinking? What was her body doing? As much as she loved learning hidden details about people, she never wanted to know about the inner workings of their sexual appetites… and this was Jackson! Yes, he was attractive, impeccably so. But April was realistic when it came to matters of the heart, and she knew he was way out of her league. She allowed herself a thought, a small devilish thought: _I wonder how big it is?_

Mortified, she covered her face with her hands and stifled a squeal into the lumpy pillow. April had unwillingly taken the lid off Pandora’s Sexual Box. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander. Jackson did look good without a shirt, she could picture herself lightly dragging the tips of her fingers across his chest, rugged and so perfect. She would sigh and slide down her hand to his scrub pants, tugging on the string to loosen the waist while they would fall onto the floor and she would see that he definitely wasn’t wearing underwear and—

She stopped again. This train of thought was dangerous. There was no way these texts were meant for her, obviously not. The best way to deal with this situation was to not engage. She vowed to herself to forget this moment, these lurid thoughts, and his sexual text messages… It was for the best. She reopened her phone and promptly deleted the messages, trying to ignore the niggling feeling of disappointment. How could she ever look him in the eye again?

April tried to get comfortable on the bed, planning only to leave when her pager went off. Her shift would be over soon, and she would rather not think about seeing Jackson at home in the morning.

.

When April arrived back at home it was 7:03 a.m. and she was more worked up then usual. Her nerves felt fried, brain frazzled, and body completely stiff. Before she left work, she said a silent prayer to not bump into Jackson at home for fear of him seeing her and _knowing_ what she read.

“Morning, April!”

Speak of the devil and he doth appear in all his absent shirt glory. She locked the front door behind her and quickly shook off her shoes, placing them delicately beside her running sneakers, eyes to floor. She headed towards the kitchen, where he was fiddling with the coffee maker.

“Why is this thing always so temperamental? You figure ten years of medical school I’d have this kind of thing figured out by now,” he said sheepishly, eyes looking up to her as she entered the room.

April blushed immediately; dirty thoughts already released from the floodgates of her mind. _How big is it, how big is it, how big is it, how big—_

She stepped towards him while only looking at the coffee maker. Both Alex and Jackson had trouble with the machine, it was an older model and sometimes needed some extra prompting. Meredith had taught her a trick to shimmy the filter basket and turn it on and off. April stood beside him and started to shimmy the basket with shaky hands, her nerves getting the best of her.

“Whoa Kepner, you alright with that? Let me help.” Jackson reached over and placed his hand over hers, probably with the intention of steadying it.

She gasped, not anticipating the electric shock she felt through his very big, strong, and warm right hand. Hers flew out from under his and she stared at him, eyes wide and waiting. He looked down at her hand, and then quickly his gaze flickered to her face. They shared a brief moment of silence, his gaze questioning while she probably resembled a deer in the headlights.

“I—”

She was saved from having to speak when she heard the loud clunk of the machine brewing. They both averted their glances to the coffee maker, now filling the pot with a fresh batch of mid-grade coffee.

“Whew, that was close one. Thank god you came.”

Jackson smiled down at her, completely at ease with her being there, even though he was in a state of undress (perfectly shirtless). He always had a way of rendering her speechless, her ever racing mind coming to a complete stop whenever he graced her with a grin. It was sad really, that she never recognized these feelings as an unrequited crush or in other words, complete submission. She would undoubtedly do anything he asked if he wanted to. And in this moment, in the early morning, dishes piling up in the sink, trash not yet taken out, Alex’s girlfriends bra on the ground, she realized that if he asked, she would get on her knees for him right here and now.

_You’re such a good girl for me._

“Stop!”

Jackson took a step back at her sudden outburst, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“April what’s—”

“Nothing, sorry. Gosh I’m so sorry. I’m just really tired. You know, I had to suture so many wounds last night? They just kept on coming, sometimes I hate that Joe’s is right across from the hospital. I mean, come on? Can’t anyone just enjoy an evening without rendering themselves completely stupid?”

“April.”

“Not to mention all the making out in dark corners and leading ladies into secret bathrooms for… I’m sure not just a friendly chat! Are you seeing someone by the way? Not to be weird but, there was a nurse uh-uh, Lydia? I think that was her name?”

“Lydia? You mean Lizzie?”

“She just keeps talking about you, I mean she just won’t shut up!”

“Are you—”

“It’s exhausting having you run around in my head all day just you know, saying things, texting things… you know I value our friendship, right?”

Jackson stopped her from continuing by grasping her by the shoulders and leading her to the table.

“Okay, Kepner you definitely don’t need any coffee. Are you alright? That was quite the barrage, even for you.” he pushes her shoulders down so that he could lower her down onto the wooden kitchen chair. Now he was leaning over her, looking at her with those _eyes_ and all she could do was let out a breath that she had been unknowingly holding in.

“Just relax for a second, okay?” he starts rubbing his thumb on her shoulder, branding it with his persistent and absolutely exquisite touch. April feels like a pervert. Jackson was doing what he does best, comforting her when she became uptight and high strung, but he usually never touched her. She thought about the girl in the bar and how he touched her the very same way before leading her somewhere else…

She started to relax and ease into it, shutting her eyes for just a moment. He clearly realized that she was visibly tense, and his touch was helping her come back to reality. _I can enjoy this simple gesture, right? It’s not like this is overtly sexual, he just cares about me, he’s just trying to put my mind at ease. Yeah, this is so nice… this has nothing to do with the fact that he’s touching me (ME!), completely shirtless, the smell of mint on his breath, eyes completely focused on me._

“That’s a good girl.”

What happens next, she can’t specifically blame on herself, it was a series of moments, it was those series of texts, that all lead up to this. She’s inexperienced and he decided with no forethought to say those four words to her (while leaning over her, mind you), taking charge of her and she does the unthinkable, she _moans._ Her brain short circuits and her eyes fly open to see if he heard it (of course he heard it!) and she feels her face flush with so much heat its almost unbearable.

He’s looking down at her, shocked, because this is April Kepner. He stops rubbing circles on her shoulder and she’s brought back down to earth. He stands up straighter, looking dumbfounded, like he couldn’t believe she could ever have a sexual thought, response, craving to anything let alone those mindless words. Not realizing that only seconds before she was thinking about him in a way that friends do not think of each other. _I’m a virgin, I’m a virgin, I’m a virgin, I’m a virgin, I’m a vir—_

She stands up quickly and practically runs out of the kitchen, knocking over her chair in the process and stumbling over Alex and Jackson’s shoes (she’s told them a million times that they belong on the shoe rack or in the garbage if they don’t move them!). She rushes upstairs, taking two steps at a time and flies into her bedroom slamming and locking the door behind her. She wishes she never got a cell phone.

.

Jackson can’t decide if he should go up to her room or leave her alone for a few days. He was going about his business, making coffee for himself on his day off, when he heard her come home. This wasn’t unusual, they always seemed to bump into each other at home, in the driveway, at Joe’s, at the hospital, and sometimes at the grocery store having received the same grocery list from Alex. _What a jackass,_ he would say as she would chastise him for his language (but he knew she always snuck in a laugh at Alex’s expense).

When she came into the kitchen, he knew something was up. They knew each other well enough to know when the other was in a mood. But instead of walking on eggshells around her he would simply just listen to her. April was pretty easy to figure out once you actually got to know her. She was incredibly smart, kind, generous, and a little mischievous when she thought he wasn’t looking. She would always “accidentally” divulge the hospital staff’s secrets to him in a moment of weakness when they were hanging out on the couch. Sometimes he would catch her staring at the pretty, lacy bras that Alex’s girlfriends would leave over when she was doing their laundry. He had even caught her stealing a cookie from his side of the pantry late at night when he was leaving for a shift.

But right now, he could sense an unwavering level of nervous energy when she entered the kitchen. She was practically vibrating.

He seemed to get her calmed down by forcing her to sit, while he was ruminating on the stream of consciousness she unloaded upon him. _How did she know about Lizzie? Was she really chatting to Kepner about him? Sure, they had a fling at the bar, and she was a really good sexter, instead of last night when he presented her with dead air…_

His thoughts were interrupted when she… moaned.

Jackson’s mind went blank. All he could take in was how soft her shoulder felt against his hand, and the constellation of freckles that led from where he was touching to the pink flush on her chest. Her red hair was down, covering her neck and he could smell a slight floral smell covering the easily distinguishable scent of the hospital. Her mouth was parted, her lips looked soft and so pink, and had anyone ever kissed them before? The sound that came from her mouth was sinful. It was breathy, but came from the back of her throat, unprompted.

Jackson almost forgot who it was that moaned when she shot up from the chair he placed her in, the legs scraping against the floor. He had never seen her look more panicked as she quickly turned and ran from his sight. Flabbergasted, he stood staring at the place where she was seated moments before. The place where he had touched her. Innocently. At least he thought it was innocent. 

The burbling of the coffee alerted him of where he was as it signaled the end of its cycle. Jackson poured himself a mug and sat down, across from her chair.

“Morning, dude,” Alex grunted, ambling into the kitchen towards the fresh pot of coffee. “I see you got this stupid piece of junk working. You know, we should really get Kepner to buy a new one. I swear that broad does anything I say, its almost like magic.” Alex turns toward Jackson, filling up a plain white mug that had a chip on the rim with a self-satisfying grin.

Jackson stayed silent, staring at the same place. Coffee forgotten.

“Okay man, you’re kinda freakin’ me out here,” he went to sit across from Jackson.

“What?” Jackson said, finally aware of his surroundings.

“How eloquent. You’re sure you’re an Avery?” Alex snickered.

“I just… did you tell April about Lizzie? You know, the girl from the bar?”

“Yikes dude. I didn’t even know about Lizzie. Like Lizzie the Peds nurse?” Alex got up from the chair and started to raid the pantry, knocking over half-empty bags of chips and stale crackers in his search for breakfast. “You boning that chick or something?”

Jackson didn’t think he would ever get used to the way Alex talked about women. It was almost barbaric and quite frankly, downright disrespectful (even when he _did_ remember their names) but it was a surprise that he knew who she was.

“Yeah, uh, April knows about her,” he says, still staring at the chair.

“So? That chick needs to mind her own business. She’s probably so interested because she clearly isn’t getting any and we are.” Alex’s eyebrows shoot up as he finds what he was looking for—the box of the brown sugar oatmeal that April purchased for him last week because “she knew it was his favourite”. Jackson rolls his eyes.

“What do you think of her?”

“Who, the nurse? I mean… she’s a nurse. Not much going on up there.”

Jackson sighs, “that’s not who I meant.”

“You mean April? Again… its April. Too much going on up there.”

Alex crosses the kitchen and shakes the packet of oatmeal while filling up the tea kettle in the sink, trying to dodge the dirty dishes by the tap. Suddenly, he turns around and faces Jackson at the table.

“Why? You into her or something? Because dude, that is waaaaaay too much emotional baggage to deal with, and she’s also so annoying. She’d probably be into missionary sex, with the lights turned off, with her right hand on the Bible the whole time.”

He goes back to navigating his way around the countertop, seeking out a clean dish. Jackson covers his face with his hands, trying not to think about missionary sex with April. After this morning’s encounter he feels like he knows too much about what she would be into. She seemed to really enjoy being told that she was a good girl—so she must be into being dominated? He wonders what her neck would feel under his hand, fingers on her pulse point, beating incessantly against his index finger. Would she like it? Would she place her hand over it and urge him to squeeze the pale column of her neck? He could be gentle, he would never want to intentionally hurt her… and at this thought he feels himself becoming hard. This train of thought was becoming dangerous.

He slaps his hands on the table, ridding himself of the fantasy as Alex jumps from the sudden noise.

“Whoa, chill. I was only half-joking. I’m sure she’d be crazy in the sack. Church freaks usually are. She’s all repressed and touch starved. She’s probably never even masturbated before. And you know what they say, virgins are always the horniest. Not that you need to hear any of this from me, I mean just look at her!”

That wasn’t what he needed to hear… how April was horny and touch starved. Jackson wonders about how easy it would be to get her into bed, what with her, _condition._ He would start by getting her all worked up, touch her, and make her moan again (arguably the best sound he’s ever heard her make), make her so hot that she has to tear off her clothes. He could just feel how his tongue would glide in between the valley of her breasts, igniting her. He would see the way that her body would respond and flush with his attentions. He wonders if he could get her to bend over on a bed (counter, table, anything), arch her back, soaking wet through her underwear as he massages the globes of her ass. He would lean over her, kiss her spine, let his hands splay against the thin skin across her ribs. He would worship her body, untouched by any man except for him… she would be his.

The kettle begins to boil as Alex has finally found a relatively clean bowl and spoon to use as he dumps the oatmeal pack unceremoniously into the bowl. He pours the hot water slowly over the oatmeal so as not to spill (which has happened many times before). Jackson watches as he mulls over Alex’s words, fists clenching underneath the table.

“Wait, ‘just look at her’, what do you mean? Has she come onto you?”

Alex scoffs as he sifts through the mush of his breakfast.

“I just mean that redheads are crazy and sometimes when you’re not wearing a shirt, I’ve seen her stare. And she’s not afraid to look down south either—which always makes me want to hurl. Even talking about this is gross, can we talk about work instead?”

Alex begins to ramble about his upcoming surgeries he’s scrubbing in on (no doubt trying to make Jackson jealous) as he eagerly slurps his food. Jackson tunes him out as he starts to think about what Alex said. Sure, Alex was an idiot when it came to tact—or anything other than a scalpel—but he was always annoyingly observant, and his observations were usually right.

He recalls a time when April was about to put in a load of laundry (she’s almost always in that laundry room, he swears) and she called out to him to see if he had any other articles she wanted to put in with the darks. He had walked into the small space as she was pouring the detergent into the washer compartment. She turned to him, eyebrow raised expectantly, seeing that he had nothing in his hands to deposit.

“You think this shirt can make it in?” He fingers the article in question, and she laughs.

“Yes, Jackson. I believe navy-blue belongs with the rest of the darks.” She looks up at him then, waiting for him to do something.

He smirks at her and starts to peel off his shirt. Perhaps, now that he really thinks about it, this was a bad idea. It was a small space, he was close to her (a beautiful woman who happened to be his friend), and the scent of the laundry detergent she always bought smelt heavenly. Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. She never failed to blush when she saw him shirtless (so did every woman within a ten-mile radius) but upon closer inspection of the memory he should have noticed her chest heave, pupils dilate, and her sharp intake of breath.

He held out the shirt to her and she slowly reached out her hand on his to take it from him.

“Um, thank you. I’ll get everything done stat,” she whispered. He noticed her eyes move from his to his chest, his abs, and then…

“No problem, Kepner. Good thing about shirts is that I have to wear them, and they’ll inevitably get dirty so good thing you’re here to keep ‘em clean.”

“Yes, you should wear one. Sorry, wear them. It’s always good to protect your body from the elements.” She closed her eyes at her rambling and laughed a little, clearly flustered. Jackson never left her hanging and gave her a quick smile before exiting the room.

Jackson is brought back to the present when he hears Alex dumping his bowl into the sink and announces that he’s on the way to the hospital. Jackson gives him a quick goodbye as he stretches himself on the chair, his body tense from his imaginings. He decides to stop dwelling on the _awkwardly hot moment_ and pulls out his cellphone, realizing that Lizzie had never answered his messages. Jackson wasn’t much of a “sexter”, but Lizzie had pestered him often enough that he gave it a try. He didn’t mind it so much, it allowed him to put his “creative writing” and visual imagination to the test.

He scrolled down his phone to “Lizze K.” and was surprised when he saw that the last message was from her.

“Baby, I’m so horny. I’m on the night shift tonight, maybe you could make it a little more lively for me 😉?”

Confused, and heart rate slightly elevating he went back into his recent messages. Right at the top was “Kepner” and he realized where his messages went…

_Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit—_

No wonder April came home unable to talk to him normally! The enormity of the situation came crashing down on him. He had sexted his best friend. His best girlfriend. His best girlfriend who also happened to be a devout Christian and 28-year-old virgin. Jackson’s head fell into his hands as he sighed deeply. He had a lot of explaining to do, a lot of apologies to make, and a lot of time travel theories he needed to look up and put into practice so he could go back and tell Lizzie that “no, I’m actually not interested in sexting. But how about a dirty email?”

Suddenly, he heard the shower turning on upstairs. Right, April was here… and he was here… and Alex was gone for probably 24 hours straight. After his body had calmed down, he decided to get up and go upstairs. Perhaps he would hide in his room forever, abandon the Avery legacy, and live as a hermit. He could get Alex to buy him food and live vicariously through his surgeries. No big deal.

He. Could. Handle. This.

Once he reached the top of the stairs, he noticed that April’s door was still slightly ajar. He could see her neatly made bed, organized boudoir, and freshly vacuumed rug (without a spec of dirt, typical Kepner). But what really garnered his attention was the little red notebook open on her end table. He remembers that notebook, she used to carry it around with her all the time at work. Curiosity getting the better of him he walks inside her room. He knows this is wrong, he was crossing a line here. But then he thought about how she knew too much about him, and maybe he should even the score.

He walks closer to the object and sees her neat scrawl on the page. He picks up the object of his curiosity and flips through the pages. One in particular caught his eye:

_What a day. I was on Derek Sheppard’s service all day and somehow ended up doing all his labs, pre-ops and post-ops while he was busy shacking up with MEREDITH in the CONFERENCE ROOM of all places! Forgive me Lord, but I couldn’t stop myself from overhearing their… activities. Do guys really like when you moan out loud? At everything they do to you? It seemed a bit overkill (not that I would know). He was all demanding and kept telling her to “touch herself for him”. All I could think about was the Chief having a meeting with the board in. that. Room!!!! And what’s the good of touching yourself when a man can just do it for you? What pleasure could he possibly take in viewing something so private? I know I shouldn’t be thinking about these things, but everyone seems to know what to do but me. Maybe I just need a teacher?_

Jackson stops reading and closes the book. This was wrong and he shouldn’t be uncovering April’s private thoughts. He lets his mind travel to this moment in time that she spied on but instead of Meredith and Derek it was him and her. He would kiss her, over and over again until she was desperate for breath, clutching at his clothes. He would hoist her up onto the edge of the solid conference room table and place her on her back, placing kisses on her neck while his hand would roam under her top and just _feel_ how soft and pliant she was. He could only imagine how loud she would be; he would have to place two of his fingers in her mouth so she could occupy herself on something other than blowing their cover.

He would take his time, make her needy for him, and then pull down her pants agonizingly slowly.

“I want you to touch yourself for me.”

She would smile bashfully and slip her dainty hand inside her underwear. What colour would they be? Red, definitely red. She would dip one finger inside of herself and bring it back up to touch her aching clit. He can imagine her dragging her now, very wet finger, up her stomach and into her mouth.

“Do you want to taste?”

Jackson shook himself out of yet another fantasy.

This was starting to weigh heavy on his conscience… but it wasn’t heavy enough. He was having too much fun imagining her. He flips through to find a more recent passage, not interested in hearing about her hopeless crush on Sheppard.

_Okay, so don’t get me wrong, I really do enjoy Jackson’s company. He’s sweet, thoughtful, and so intelligent, I can’t believe that he isn’t an attending already! But his company is also starting to make me feel weird. Sometimes when he looks at me, like I’m the only person in the room (dumb, I know!), my body starts to feel all hot. My skin feels like its going to set on fire. Tonight, we were watching a movie and he placed his hand on my thigh (a little above the knee but not quite high enough to reach the hem of my shorts) and I had to stand up. The contact was almost too much! I couldn’t even focus on what we were watching. I had to putter around the kitchen for awhile to get some relief. THEN I entered the room right as a sex scene was playing! And of course, it’s no big deal for him because he’s hot and gentlemanly and gracious and oblivious to the fact that I am analyzing every move made on screen. I couldn’t help but imagine that it was us up there—bodies pressed together, hands desperately clinging to each other… I had to leave. I feigned tiredness and practically ran up to my room! Even though I prayed for 30 minutes I couldn’t get him out of my head… how would he touch me? Roughly and filled with urgency? Or gently and playfully? I wonder what he looks like.. down there.. you know?_

“What are you doing?!”

Jackson drops the notebook as if it were a hot pan and places his hands behind his back, standing up straight and turning quickly towards her. Busted.

April stood in her bedroom doorway, hair still dark and wet from her shower, with a small towel placed around her body. Jackson had never seen her look so shocked in all the time he had known her. He became hyper aware of where he was, right by her bed, still shirtless in a room that was filled with her scent. The droplets from her hair were slowly making a path down her chest to her cleavage. He gulped.

“April, listen—I can explain.”

“You can explain? You want to explain to me why you’re standing in MY room with MY notebook where I write down all of MY private thoughts?” she flushes angrily, clearly too worked up to realize the predicament they’re currently in.

“I swear, I didn’t read anything,” Jackson fumbles.

“So, you’re telling me that the movement of your eyes across the pages wasn’t you reading my notebook? That you didn’t purposefully enter my room, pick up my notebook, and decide to _not_ read it?”

Jackson could see her breathing escalate, she was heading into a full freak out mode and the storm of April Kepner was headed directly toward him. She wasn’t stupid, she knew exactly what he had been doing. He needed to derail this quickly.

“I know you saw the texts,” he blurted.

.

When April felt like she could breathe again she began to strip her scrubs from her body and get ready for a shower. She could hear Alex moving around his room, undoubtedly getting ready for work, as she picked out a fresh towel for herself and a clean pair of underwear. She couldn’t wait to be clean and fresh for bed (that is if she could shut her brain off and stop thinking about all things pertaining to Jackson Avery).

She slowly opened her bedroom door and peered down the hallway, ensuring the coast was clear (Jackson nowhere in sight!) and she tiptoed to the bathroom. When she first started living with Alex and Jackson, she was always cautious around them. She always wore long sleeved pajamas with matching pants to ensure not an inch of skin was showing. Quickly she realized that these _boys_ didn’t share her feelings of modesty. They would both parade around the house in various states of undress, not giving her a second thought.

The first time April exited her room with just a towel to cover herself (she had to work up the courage to step outside of the confines of her bedroom for a whole seven minutes), Alex just looked at her sleepily and told her “not to hog all the hot water” and from then on, she knew she would never be a sexual option to them. Not that she minded, until now.

But this was her home too, and if she wanted to walk through the hallway in a state of undress, then so be it! She walked with her head held high and made it to the bathroom, chastising herself along the way. _You can do this, you can do this, you can do this, you can--_

She leaned against the door and locked it, sighing heavily. This was too much unneeded stress to deal with for roommates (one in particular) to not even care that she was just in a towel. She turned on the showerhead and forcefully shoved her thoughts into the back of her mind, determined to rid herself of her mortification. Once inside, she got to work on washing her hair, relaxing her body against the strong, pressurized current.

Not long after shampooing her hair, the thoughts returned to the incident in the kitchen. _Maybe he didn’t hear me? Maybe it wasn’t_ that _obvious that I was enjoying his friendly, reassuring, unquestioningly platonic, shoulder touch? Maybe receiving those texts was all just an overworked-late-night-suturing-overactive-imagination-fever-dream? But how could I dream up something so illicit? I mean he texted that he wanted to be inside me? I mean, not me_ me, _definitely not me. Jackson wouldn’t want to be inside me… ever. I mean, MAYBE if we were the last two people on Earth and it was strictly for procreation! That wouldn’t be so bad. He probably knows his way around a woman, and he isn’t bad to look at, and… I wonder how big it is?_

April huffed out an exasperated breath as she realized that she had started shampooing her hair for a second time instead of conditioning it. Her plan of not letting her imagination get the better of her was not working. She turned off the showerhead and grabbed the towel that she had left on the floor. As she was towel drying her hair, she heard the front door slam shut, hopefully signaling the departure of both male roommates from the house. She could finally have some alone time to think to herself in a quiet, non-shirtless, environment.

She slipped on her clean underwear and wrapped the pink towel around her body, securing it around her chest. Giving herself a quick glance in the mirror, she wrinkled her nose at herself, slightly ashamed of all the dirty thoughts that have been occupying her mind in the last twelve hours. _All you need to do now, is go to sleep, and pretend like nothing weird ever happened._

As she padded down the hallway, she immediately knew something was amiss.

One: Her bedroom door was wide open. (She calmed herself down before she began to panic, she was home alone remember?)

Two: She became painfully aware of how naked she was. (It’s okay, she was home alone, right?)

Three: Jackson was in HER room, still shirtless, and his head was bent over reading HER red little notebook where she detailed every embarrassing, personal, sexual thought.

April forgets herself in her pure, unbridled, mania. This was not how she wanted the rest of her day to go. Jackson wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be working, far away from her room and personal belongings. She can feel herself accusing him, letting her brain go on autopilot. She can only imagine what she looks like right now; face tomato red, eyes wide and unblinking, body tensed upright, a complete basket case.

“I know you saw the texts,” she heard him say, which effectively silenced her.

“Listen, April. I’m so sorry you had to see those messages. They were vulgar, crass, and inappropriate. I’m sorry you had to see such base behaviour from an Avery, and your friend.”

He looked up at her then, eyes on hers, looking flustered.

April stood motionless then. It was only a matter of time before he figured out who his texts actually went too, and she wants to mentally kick herself for not thinking of what to say in this moment. _Yeah, I read your texts, and now I can’t think about you without imagining myself in an awkward position. Or many different positions. In fact, I_ wish _those texts were for me, so that I could tell you I want everything you could possibly offer. Now I have to pretend I don’t for the sake of our friendship and my chastity._

Receiving no response from her seemed to prompt him to continue talking.

“It was pretty late at night, as you know,” he looked at her sheepishly. “Honestly, sexting isn’t really my thing. I mean its other people’s thing… which is fine, but Lizzie wanted a pick-me-up and I thought it best to comply,” he starts to move his hands, emphasizing his point, looking down from her stare.

“…and her last name starts with a ‘K’ and you go by ‘Kepner’ in my phone, so I guess when I was searching through my contacts, I just went with the first ‘K’… which was you.” He ended his rant abruptly, still staring at the ratty chenille carpet she got as a hand-me-down from one of her sisters.

April moved her mouth to form words, poetic words, words that would hopefully try to quell the mounting feelings of awkwardness and uncertainty but all she could muster was, “it’s okay.”

Jackson looks up at her, finally. Eyes searching her face, probably trying to deduce whether she was just trying to placate him or not. He picks up the notebook he dropped and deposits it back onto her end table, where it rightfully belongs, and takes a step towards her. She began to feel nervous under his gaze, and his proximity. She tenses and furrows her brows.

“So, what did you read in my notebook?” she asks, blushing for the millionth time in front of him. Her heart rate increases, thinking about all the observations she’s written down about him, her unrequited fantasies on most of the pages. She recalls one passage about experimenting with dessert items because of one time she overheard some interns acting out a sexual story that involved two cans of whipped cream and chocolate syrup.

He clears his throat and his eyes dart from hers to the floor and back again, “I, uh, just read the one about Sheppard. Tough break for you there, I mean, you had to do all of his labs and stuff while he was busy doing… you know.” He fidgets with his hands, deciding to put one behind his neck and the other on his hip, actively not trying to touch her or go into her personal bubble. Not that any personal boundaries mattered anymore, he already knew too much about what was going on inside her mind and clearly it wasn’t just all about grocery lists and Bible verses.

“That’s all you read?” she says breathily moving a fraction closer to him. He’s looking at her now, with a different expression from before. He seems unsure of himself, still rubbing the back of his neck and not keeping eye contact with her. He’s never been in her room before and he looks out of place with her artfully arranged white furniture and brightly coloured bedspread. She can see out of the corner of her eye a stuffed bear that she got when she was five, leaning on her perfectly fluffed pillow. Juxtaposed with his very male presence, his very male scent, and his very male body so close to her. She must be crazy, she must be, because all she can think about is touching him and recreating all the passages, she wrote in her notebook about him. He’s here, in her room, looking so handsome and so _capable_ of making her feel good.

She doesn’t even think twice about saying, “did you like what you read?”


End file.
